on friday i lived by the radio signals
of a red grape. one button at a time.
we stripped the walls of all their vines 
& left only the glass. i was being watched 
so i became the room's ornament. in the white hallway 
i walked & walked to find the next bean.
alone on a pedastal. tell me what is "enough"?
my hunger could fill every doorway with balloons.
silver house plants & a basket of brass instruments.
in my old apartment i lasted months without a table 
or a bed frame or a fork or a god. i told myself,
in the light of a single window, not to eat my own tongue.


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